Chain of Command
by rallamajoop
Summary: Preseries. Ky didn't become Commander of the Holy Order at sixteen without leaving a story or two behind him along the way.
1. Chapter 1

The briefing was not even half over before Ky started to feel uneasy. If it had been no more than anticipation for the coming battle he might have brushed it off easily, but it was pointless pretending there was no more to it than that. Reminding himself of his own inexperience did some good – he was painfully aware that barely two months ago he'd still been in training, that too much of his very understanding of military tactics was owed to extended study of text books and written reports of past battles – a miserable substitute for real field experience. But it did little good, he'd spent so long training his mind for this that to analyse was a mental reflex. He could no more have stopped it than he could have closed his ears.

"Information provided by our scouts has located a substantial Gear force moving inland through Western Spain," their captain had begun. The overhead display showed a map marking out towns or cities with populations large enough to invite enemy attack. Figures to one side laid out the size of the force and its make up by size class – this was to be no trivial battle.

"Based on our analysis of their most likely targets on their current course, they will be in position to attack within forty-eight hours. We will have one and only one opportunity to intercept them on favourable terrain before then." Brought to the far side of the display by his pacing, the captain switched around to face his audience before resuming in the other direction. He cut an impressive figure, the sort of man who could go into battle and return without so much as a crease in his neatly pressed uniform. "Their objective appears to be to break through our lines without detection by using a little known route. They will not be expecting an attack. We will have the element of surprise on our side, and we do not intend to waste that."

The talk went on into angles of advancement, pincer attacks, use of terrain and division of forces. The map was replaced with a scaled up version of the prospective battlefield with traditional coloured markers to show friend or foe, spread and movement, advance and retreat. It was an elaborate plan which would require careful coordination to be made to work, a strategy achieved by calculating every factor that could be turned to their favour to the finest degree. Given how little time there must have been to concoct it, it was impressive work – the tactical division must have been working non-stop since the report came in – but the longer Ky listened, the more seemed amiss. He could feel himself furrowing his brow further with every new detail. Could he really have been seeing a side to this plan all his superiors had missed?

When the captain reached the end of his speech and asked for questions, Ky did know objectively that this was more of a polite formality than an actual offer, and definitely not one that was extended to the petty concerns of the new recruits. But he also knew this was the only chance he would get – that he'd been self-consciously waiting for this part for the last forty minutes. Against his better judgement, he stepped forward. "Sir!"

Startled, the captain had to look around for the source of the voice. He made an abortive gesture that may have been meant to bring a hand over his eyes – this job, said every inch of his posture, would be a lot less irritating if it didn't include the task of housebreaking recruits. "You have a question, private?"

It was too late to back out now. "Sir," Ky responded, barely aware he was dropping automatically into the same tone he'd used in his schooling when called on in class, "from what I understand of our strategy, success will depend heavily on our ability to isolate those Gears in the largest classes in order to concentrate enough firepower to bring them down with a ground-based assault. However, the implication of an attack based on flanking the enemy from both sides is…"

"That's correct private," the captain had heard enough from him already, "that is a hinging point of this affair, which is why I have repeatedly stressed the importance of the element of surprise and that we immediately secure the high ground and hold it from that point onward." Apparently done with the upstart recruit, his attention shifted back to rest of his audience. "I should not have to remind any of you of the crucial role the magic divisions will play in this battle, particularly regarding the matter of neutralising those larger class Gears. Magical units one to five will attend additional briefings with a member of the tactical division two hours before the attack to elaborate on the details of their role. All dismissed."

"But that doesn't…" was on the tip of Ky's tongue, but he bit down on the impulse quickly. He'd had his chance, he'd already made more of a spectacle of himself than he liked; to question their captain any further would be insubordination.

He'd just have to hope some nuance of this plan he hadn't seen would pull them through.

* * *

Ky dawdled on his way out of the hall – more than was necessary just to avoid looking like he was in a rush to get out after that confrontation – but he already knew it was unlikely he'd have much luck making himself concentrate on anything else until the hour rolled around that evening, so there was nothing to hurry away to. Four hours to go before the airship was due to be ready for boarding – longer still before they'd even glimpse the battlefield, and precious little that would be expected of him before then other than that he'd checked any equipment he owned and maybe polished his sword a little. On any other day, there'd be a routine training for his unit in half an hour, but there'd scarcely be anyone to administer that today. Still, maybe some exercise would help clear his head. Ky headed for the training field.

The hallways were mostly deserted by the time he left, he made it much of the way to the barracks without seeing anyone who wasn't hurrying in some other direction on some important errand or other. Preparations for this evening would be keeping anyone with even reasonable seniority busy for the rest of the day, but even for those of lower rank there was a buzz of activity and anticipation which kept people moving.

When he reached the outside walkway there was a man leaning against the wall not far from the archway smoking a cigarette, with the relaxed countenance that suggested a veteran of so many battles that today's would be nothing special. He was vaguely familiar, though Ky couldn't immediately place him, and dressed in the same uniform as the hundreds of other soldiers in the magical divisions. He was also wearing a bright red forehead protector which wasn't standard issue, and which appeared to be the only thing keeping an unruly mess of brown hair out of his face. The heavy blade weapon – far too large to justify description as a sword – propped up within an arm's reach against the wall marked him as the sort of man who would probably treat any weapon he carried as an oversized fist. Even under his uniform it was hard to miss that he was built to match, but no matter how hard that might have grated against everything his instructors had ever instilled in him, Ky hadn't spent long on the battlefield without discovering that against an opponent like the Gears, blunt force tactics had their place. The soldier had presumably come out here for no other reason than to enjoy a smoke somewhere quiet, and Ky hadn't meant to pay him any attention, but he was not particularly surprised to hear a voice calling out to him before he was properly past.

"You've got some balls for a recruit," drawled the man, with an accent that betrayed him as an American, or at least someone who had been from America at some earlier point in his life. "Shame they didn't last you long enough to tell him where he could shove his plans. That would'a been a show."

Ky halted. Part of him had been mentally preparing for questions not so different to this ever since he'd left the hall, and, to his credit, he kept his composure without difficulty.

"What our captain said was right," he said, not looking around. If he could answer quickly without losing his calm, he could still get out of this with his dignity. "I am an inexperienced recruit. For me to question his authority any further would have been inappropriate." He was about to excuse himself and go on his way, but the man gave a loud snort before he could finish.

"Authority, my ass," he said. "The man we're calling a captain has his head full of books on tactics over two hundred years old. Thinks we've got an enemy that knows how to surrender or retreat. Knows how to do anything but fight until there isn't a single one left standing."

It was unnerving the way he said that, low voiced and casual, and a little too easy to believe that this man really had seen enough battles that what he was describing was nothing remarkable. Ky turned but couldn't immediately come up with a way to respond.

The man caught his eye just long enough to make Ky hope he wasn't gaping, but then glanced away again with a shrug. "'Course, most of the rest fight like they're dealing with wild animals. Take your pick."

Ky frowned, unsure what the stranger was getting at. "Then… which is the better assumption?"

The man grinned around his cigarette, the main effect of which was to make a lot of white teeth visible "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?"

Ky made himself think before he decided how to respond. "Gears. They're creatures created by infusing magic into a into a living creature, sometimes combining aspects of more than one species. They can be made from humans, but even then the process causes them to lose rationality and act purely on instinct. However, even purely animal-based Gears are subject to the directions of a Commander Gear – and a commander can act rationally. The answer – it's part of both, isn't it?"

The soldier did not look impressed by Ky's deductive work. "Very textbook of you. What'd they, pull you straight out of school? You can't be eighteen."

"Fifteen," Ky admitted, feeling his cheeks colouring slightly. It had never sounded so young as this before.

From the man's expression, that was even younger than he'd been expecting. "Shit," he muttered. "How'd I wind up in an army run by an old geezer, lead by fools and made up of kids?"

Ky felt himself clenching his fists before he could stop himself reacting. He couldn't risk losing his temper over something like this – it would be just the sort of childish reaction the man was expecting, but he was going to have to make the case for his right to be here carefully if he wanted to be taken seriously. It didn't seem likely the soldier would be impressed by the information that he'd done little else but train to join the Holy Order for the last five years, that he'd advanced so fast few of his instructors had quite known what to do with him, or even that he'd been told point blank that the Order was in desperate need of a dozen more like him in his assigned unit alone.

"You're mistaken to assume I'm new to combat," he said instead. "Gears draw no distinction between soldier and civilian. The area around the facility where I trained has come under attack six times in the last year, and assistance can be slow to reach us. All allowing me to join the Holy Order officially has changed is how often I'm called upon to fight."

The man shrugged, unmoved by this new information. "You didn't get what you told our sorry excuse for a captain out of your textbooks, anyone could tell that. But a kid is still a kid."

It would be no use trying to convince this man otherwise, Ky realised, arguing would be as futile as standing up to their captain had been, but, strangely, the thought was less unsatisfying that he would have expected. He'd known when he arrived as a recruit that he'd have to work to prove himself. Still feeling unusually brave, it finally dawned on him now he'd had longer to study his questioner properly why the man had looked familiar. "You're called Sol Badguy, right? The bounty hunter Sir Kliff recently convinced to join the Order?" he asked. "I've heard about you from the other men."

"I gotta reputation already, huh?" the man – Sol – replied. He didn't sound greatly bothered by this either way.

"They say you never listen to orders, but you can still take down more Gears than a whole unit of most of the other men," said Ky, which was little more than word-for-word what he'd been told.

Sol snorted again. "Not hard. Especially if we're recruiting school kids these days."

"I'm K…" Ky started, but that was as far as he got.

"Not interested," Sol cut him off. "Hate collecting dead men's names. Recruits don't have much life expectancy here. You live through tonight, you can tell me after." He dropped his cigarette, stubbed it out with a foot, and turned to head away. After only a couple of steps he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Kid or not you had that much right. That captain doesn't have a fucking clue what he's doing. It's gonna be a _massacre_." He almost sounded amused by it.

Ky could only stare in shock at his nonchalance in the face of such a proclamation. "Why… why didn't you say anything? Surely if you have as much experience as they say, they'd…"

"What, listen to me? Not in this lifetime." Sol gave him another toothy grin and walked away.

Ky wasn't sure another coherent thought that went through his head between then and that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

The six attacks on the facility where Ky had completed his formal training over the last year had included two which had been intercepted by the Order before they were close enough to be seen as more than the flicker of magical fire and the shriek of dying monsters in the distance, a third which came so close before the Order's forces swept in that Ky and a number of other advanced students had been left psyched up for battle and feeling slightly foolish, and a fourth in which undergraduates had only participated as an arguably superfluous supplement to a small unit of soldiers – permitted as a training exercise. The remaining two attacks suffered no such interruption, and everyone down to students who were years Ky's junior had fought long and hard by the time reinforcements finally came. That total did not include another three encounters with lost or injured Gears which had become separated from larger forces and strayed close enough to the town to be spotted and dealt with. By the time the Order got around to signing him on officially, he could already take down a medium-class Gear single-handedly. 

The clerks who waved through the few pieces of paperwork required may not have known all those details, but that didn't matter – Ky already came with more recommendations from his instructors than anyone in their history. Those forms could have included a birth-date that made him two years younger that the minimum allowed and they would still have conveniently managed not to notice it long enough to sign him up. If he'd been even a year or two older, he'd very likely have been given officer rank even with no formal field experience whatsoever. The Order was desperate for people with half his talent and none of his experience.

The difference that came with his new status was only that battles came more often, were better planned for and, often as not, he had the chance to see them coming. Hours or days could sometimes pass between the initial briefing and the attack. There was time to prepare – or to over-think and get nervous.

Ky had more to think about than he'd ever had before.

He shifted uneasily, flicking a hand in a futile attempt to discourage a trio of flies that had been plaguing him ever since he'd stepped from the airship. It was still far too warm for comfort, nevermind that the sun had set the best part of an hour ago, and there was no easy way to cool himself down that wouldn't risk giving away their position. Huddled on the ground too close together in too many layers of the Holy Order's uniform, the heat was far from welcome. Ky recalled the burst of pride he'd experienced on the first time he'd worn his new Order uniform – still not so long ago – and wondered whether this sort of discomfort was just what he'd earned for his vanity.

Only a few feet in front of them, the ridge which provided most of their cover ended and the ground sloped down and away sharply until it reached the bottom of an old, dry riverbed. On the far side it rose again in mirror image, finally flattening off again under thick vegetation which provided just enough cover to hide another unit of their troops in the dim light. How long ago and for what cause the river had ceased flowing this mission had given them no opportunity to learn, but it had once flowed long and hard enough to cut a narrow valley into the landscape, and it was this that the Gears were using for cover on this leg of their journey inland. It may not have been nearly large enough to conceal them from view altogether, and not at all from above, but in wide grassland country where imminent Gear attack would be associated with raging monsters which would be seen from far away – and where watchtowers and guards were few and far between, it offered a rare opportunity for a stealthy advancement. It was only fortunate that the Order had become aware of this movement before it got any further inland, there would have been precious little chance to do so otherwise.

Already, Ky could make out glimpses of movement in the distance as the Gear force approached, the tallest of the larger bipedal classes bent double to walk on all fours so as to make the most of the cover the river valley provided. Though still some way off, the whole procession was eerily silent. The roar of an enraged large-class Gear in battle was not a sound easily forgotten, these were living weapons which fought with little more sense than the wild beasts from which the majority of them were derived. To see this many moving with such quiet purpose was unsettling in a way not even the sight of them in battle had ever been.

_Gears under the command of the Commander Gear_, Ky's memory echoed at him, recalling the conversation from some hours previously. Sol might not have thought much of his analysis, but seeing this in action now it was harder than ever to guess what other answer he could have expected.

Judging by the quality of the light and speed at which the Gears seemed to be moving, Ky guessed there had to be at least another twenty minutes to go before the leaders drew level with the furthermost of their forces and the signal would go up that the ambush should commence. Night was falling fast, another part of the elaborate plan they were following. The darkness – so it was hoped – would give them the cover they'd need to remain hidden until the time was right (another failing of that fancy uniform was that it had scarcely been designed for camouflage). It would also put the Gears off guard, since the enemy was very much aware that humans did not willingly launch attacks at night, for the very good reason that most classes of Gear had far better night vision than humans. Of course, their captain had come up with a plan to deal with that as well…

Ky only hoped the phase that followed would go half as smoothly, letting the thought cross his mind one last time before making himself squash it down and concentrate. He'd been able to think about little else all day.

He knew this was a battle like any other, that finding the calm and focus to allow himself to place all his concentration into the task he'd been assigned had to come before all other distractions. He knew the plan he had been ordered to follow. He knew that the plan was flawed – perhaps fatally so, that a soldier who appeared to know more about fighting Gears than anyone else in their regiment had told him it would be worse than he'd ever imagined – that they were to fight a fool's battle and men all around him would lose their lives here today. He knew that the reason his hands had started shaking the moment he loosened his grip on his sword had nothing to do with the temperature. He knew he had done everything in his limited power to change this when he spoke at the briefing. He knew the importance of following the chain of command, that whatever he might think of the instructions he'd been given, his only option short of that short of outright insubordination was to obey.

It did not cross his mind that he could die here today. They had a war to fight and win, a hundred years of terror to avenge, God's will to carry out. He had too much left to do to let himself die yet.

He could hear the Gears moving now, the thunder of feet large and small in the riverbed directly in front of where he lay, though he couldn't risk looking up to see anymore – not when they were this close. Somewhere mixed in with the rumbling in his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat, faster than even the combined patter of feet of the smallest Gears, counting down the milliseconds that were left. Surely there couldn't be more than another minute left to go.

The flash when it came was bright enough that Ky saw it clearly even though its nearest source came from behind his head and his eyes were shielded. All along the valley, powerful magical light sources burst into existence at carefully selected points, illuminating the prospective battlefield with an intensity near daylight. Instantly there came the deafening roar of dozens of startled Gears, as eyes that had been adjusting for the gloom over the last hour were suddenly assaulted by brilliant, white light. Yelling at the top of their lungs to be heard over the cacophony, officers on both sides of the riverbed screamed out the command to charge, scarcely necessary after a signal so unmistakable – already men were rising to their feet. For one brief, crazy moment, this was pure exhilaration itself.

Ky's unit leapt from their hiding place and on to the ridge almost as a single man. There were black spots in the corners of Ky's vision, but he could see the Gear army now clearly for the first time, a swarm of small and mid range class creatures milling around below them, no less fierce for their disorientation at such a sudden attack. And right before Ky's eyes, the largest Gear he had ever seen so close was rising to its full height. It kept on rising until it towered over their heads, even with its feet still flat on the riverbed far below. It was a twisted creature, two-footed and bald but for a few tufts of wiry hair that stuck like bristles from its skin, just humanoid enough to be far more hideous in its deformation than familiar.

There were gasps from the men either side of him, the rattle of weapons being raised and grips shifted. Ky found himself not so much scared as suddenly and acutely aware that things had gotten very bad faster than he'd ever imagined they would have. The giant Gear let out a roar, deeper in pitch to the sounds its companions had been making scarce moments before, and raked a long taloned arm down towards the men beneath it – faster than any creature that size should have been able to move. Ky dived to the ground even as others to the left and right of him did likewise, all making it to safety just in time. At the end of the line the very last man waited almost too long in indecision over which way to run, then threw himself out of the way at the last moment, only to be hoisted into the air as the tip of a claw snagged on the fabric of his overcoat. He was lifted a dozen feet upwards before the material finally gave way and left him cast off in mid air. He landed with no more grace than could be expected, his sword jolted from his grip on landing with a yelp of pain.

Seeing his men's hesitation rising into terror, the officer in charge of the unit looked from face to desperate face. "What do you think you're doing? Stand and face it! Prepare the most powerful offensive magic we have to fire on my mark. This is the purpose of the whole magical division, we can't let one monster take us down!"

Men raised their heads in response, moving too slowly to figure out how to obey. The officer had been the first to make it back to his feet and had turned his back to the battlefield to address them. He never saw what was coming. Ky made himself look away as the claw closed on the man and lifted him skywards – this was not going to be something he wanted to watch.

Flame flickered in the corner of his vision as the man to his left abandoned his weapon and put his full concentration into readying a spell – not an attempt to follow the officer's last order, this was pure reactionary impulse, no thought in it at all.

"No, there's not…!" Ky started to yell, knowing even a Gear couldn't miss what the man was doing, but he wasn't seeing anything past the ends of his own fingers. Cursing, Ky grabbed the spellcaster by the arm and dragged him down, barely in time to make any difference, the descending claw still raked across the soldier's chest in a spray of blood.

Another poorly aimed fire spell bounced off the thick hide of the Gear's shoulder and did little more than enrage the beast. None of the other men dared even try.

This was madness. They were at the worst possible height and distance to tackle a Gear of this size – all it had to do was reach out and pick them off one by one.

"Fall back!" Ky yelled at the other men. "From here, we're nothing but targets! Everyone, back over the ridge!"

"But our orders were to hold position no matter…" another soldier protested. Ky did not wait to let him finish.

"What good are orders to dead men? _Hurry!_"

Around him, men stunned enough to take instruction from anyone left still sensible enough to give them hurried to obey. Ky looped his own arm around the back of the injured man and dragged him to his feet. The wound was serious, but if they could just get clear he might yet survive this. The man was barely fit enough to move his legs at a supported stumble, and Ky didn't much like his chance of being able to get them both out of the way if the Gear came back for them again – so much so that he was briefly relieved to glance over a shoulder and see that the creature had been so distracted by the sight of the rest of the unit running that it had forgotten its wounded prey. Relief faded fast when he saw the giant Gear taking its first lumbering steps out of the riverbed in pursuit. Of course it would have to follow them; it could even be turned to their advantage if it gave them the chance to regroup on more favourable terrain, but there were still men down there – some of the injured and struggling up from further down the slope – and at this rate the Gear would reach them too quickly.

He had to do something – and do it now, even without a good plan in mind, or it would be too late. Ky dragged his companion the last few feet to the relative safety behind the ridge, turned and ran back. Bringing a hand through a sharp arc, he channelled just enough magic through his fingertips and released one of the lightning projectiles that had made his last instructor drop his clipboard when Ky had first demonstrated it all those months ago and swear it was past time to retire. His aim rang true, the bolt hit the Gear directly below its left eye, making it roar in pain and allowing the two men helping the last wounded soldier to slip through its claws.

The recoiling beast gave Ky a little time to start his next move, and he couldn't afford to waste that. As soon as it figured out where that blow had come from it would be on him in seconds – this had to be finished now, before what advantage he had was lost. There was no hope of outrunning something with legs longer than he was tall in country like this. Acting on little more than instinct, Ky made for the one opening he had to attack. He raced towards and under the giant, to where its left foot rested on those vicious claws, and thrust his sword as deeply as he could into its ankle. He took a moment, consciously making himself forget every rule and overrule every habit he'd learned in his last five years about control, and channelled every volt of magic he could muster through the blade.

The Gear did not roar – it screamed, as every muscle below its knee clenched involuntarily. Feeling the monster lose its balance, Ky pressed a foot against its skin and wrenched his sword free – and none too soon, as the creature reacted on instinct to lift its wounded foot into the perceived safety of the air, but misjudged its balance on one leg and began to topple over backwards.

One disadvantage of being the tallest thing that stood on high ground – it had that much further to fall.

In the riverbed below, small Gears scurried left and right to get out of the way before the giant fell. The Gear landed nearly head first, only lucky that the river bed was too soft and sandy to split its skull on impact, and lay there, stunned and groaning.

"Now!" Ky heard himself yelling to the other men. "This is our chance! Charge!" He took off down the slope without another thought, barely aware of the ache in his sword arm, picking up speed so fast that it was only by luck that he managed to keep his footing on the unfamiliar ground.

Blocking his path was a half-stunned Gear of one of the smaller classes, 'smaller' meaning only that it was nearly twice his height. Ky leapt, mid-stride, and swung his sword to slash through its throat before it ever realised he was coming, and landed again without missing a step. So intent was he on his target that even the Gear had been little more than an obstruction to him – he'd barely seen it was there. He was almost to the river bed before it ever dawned on him he may have rushed in too hastily. There were plenty of other Gears down here still, and not even the fall of the giant had startled them for long. But it was too late to stop now, Ky gathered his magic again, finding more than he would have believed he had left, and let his momentum carry him charging into their midst at the centre of a crackling ball of lightening.

The effect on the assembled Gears below was… surprisingly satisfactory.

Ky hesitated long enough to wonder what he'd just done. It had been no more than the most impromptu kind of tactics, magic focused and released in bursts at speed, riding in on his own power with little or no conscious control, but the results on the half a dozen stunned or wounded Gears lying in his path spoke for itself. It might seem inelegant in principle, but it would be an invaluable trick to master. If he could just find a way to refine it slightly, to waste less power…

He shook himself, this was hardly the pace to stop and think about such things, when the enemy was getting back to its feet either side of him. After that showy entrance, enough damage had been done that the odds had shifted rather more in his favour. As he whirled and slashed at his foes, Ky was surprised to discover that there was a part of him that was enjoying that. It was exhilarating, to fight for almost the very first time without having to hold back for fear of getting too serious against a sparring opponent, or mind his footwork too closely under the eyes of instructors watching for the slightest technical mistake. As much as Ky had always prided himself on his control and ability to keep his head in the worst of situations, this – sang his blood – was what battle was all about, yourself pitted along against the strongest opponent you could just barely beat. This was where you found out how good you really were.

The last Gear went down under a well aimed bolt of lightening without ever getting the chance to recover from the previous blow, and Ky whirled through a full 360 degrees, first in one and then the other direction before he realised there was no longer a single living Gear within a dozen yards of where he stood.

It suddenly dawned on him that in the heat of battle he'd completely forgotten what first brought him charging down here – the downed giant Gear. He whirled around again, discovering as he did so that the last skirmish had carried him further away from it than he'd ever intended, and laid eyes on it again just in time to see the giant's head being pierced clean through by a pillar of ice. The other men from his unit milled around it on both sides.

Far from wasting his effort, Ky had played a vital role in holding off enemy forces long enough to give the other men the space and time needed to ready the killing blow. Several of them were looking at him with a new kind of respect. Even though Ky may not have had any kind of formal authority over them, right then they would have followed him anywhere he led.

The lull in that part of the valley wouldn't last long.

"Everyone, fall back," Ky called to the other men. "We can regroup behind the ridge. There'll be plenty more giants left tonight, we need to be ready!" Even as he said it and the others moved to obey, he couldn't fight down a shiver of elation, finding himself light-headed in a way not even the use of so much magic so quickly could account for. The battle might be desperate but it wasn't unwinable – if he and a small troop of inexperienced soldiers could take down a Gear of this size so quickly, what couldn't a whole army do?

Glancing quickly over a shoulder, Ky ran back up the slope.

It was then at that moment that three of the light spells illuminating the battlefield went out in quick succession, and near absolute darkness swept in from every side.

* * *

**A/N: **Just wanted to say a quick thanks to everyone who's sent me feedback on this so far, you've been wonderfully encouraging. Part three should not be too far behind.


	3. Chapter 3

No number of investigations after the fact would ever discover whether the simultaneous Gear counter-attack on the Holy Order's light sources had been coordinated or merely coincidence. Even had they found out, it would have been no help to the men on the ground that night, plunged suddenly into a darkness filled with wave after wave of monsters which could be heard but barely seen. For the senior officers who should have been directing their men, the night became an unending struggle to get the lights relit as fast as they were taken out. And for Ky's unit, long periods passed with only the illumination of their own magical fire to see by. Any attempt to produce a longer lasting light of their own only made the caster into a target.

When the sun finally rose over the battlefield many hours later, nothing in the scene it illuminated brought any comfort.

* * *

The battle of Rio Mera Valley would officially go down in the records as a victory, in that the Gear force had been all but wiped out, but the toll on the Holy Order's side had been horrific. Less than a third of the fourth battalion now remained fit for combat, and barely a third of the remainder would ever be again. Sol had been right – the Gears would fight until one side or the other had been annihilated.

Ky had too much time and too little to do with it when the surviving troops made it home. By virtue of being one of the lucky few who had come away with no worse than minor injuries, but with no command rank and no skills the medical division could make use of, he was quickly relegated to a category no-one wanted to know about. He tried going for a walk to stop himself from brooding, but the place was too quiet; even areas of the complex which he knew objectively were always empty at this time of the day felt empty for the wrong reasons. The concept of survivor's guilt had taken on a new and personal meaning in the past hours. Reminding himself that there had been nothing else he could have done was cold comfort – it didn't lessen the number of men who had died.

When a messenger was sent to look for him twenty-four hours after their army's return to base, Ky was found in the garden to the south of the headquarters. He looked up guiltily at the sound of his name.

"Yes, that's me," he told the messenger, uncomfortably aware of exactly where he would have been expected to be at this time of day under less extraordinary circumstances.

"The commander wants to see you," the man told him without preamble, "and he made it sound urgent."

There was only one person in the Order who was referred to by that title, but the idea that he would personally want to speak to someone as low ranked as Ky at a time like this was so foreign that it took several moments for it to register what the man was talking about. "Comm… Sir Kliff wants… but why would he…?"

"Didn't say, I'm just the messenger," said the man. "But I wouldn't keep him waiting."

That much was beyond argument.

Ky was very nearly too distracted to remember the way. It wasn't too far fetched to believe word of his actions during the last battle had reached the commander's ears, and Ky was again uncomfortably aware that what he had done had involved disobedience of a direct order, but it would be unbelievable that he'd deserve an official reprimand given the surrounding circumstances – let alone one from the very top of the command chain. Even if the opposite was true, that he'd earned some commendation, it made so sense that he'd learn of it in such a way. With so many officers killed or wounded in battle, it was possible they were in a position to take reports from anyone left who could stand, but even that seemed insufficient to warrant his being personally singled out like this. Ky didn't have any real hope of guessing what this could be about.

In his short lifetime he'd met Kliff Underson only twice, both times briefly, and that was already more than many soldiers would see of him in person in their entire military careers. That first meeting when a ten year old Ky had happened upon Kliff by chance on the edge of a battlefield barely counted, however, when the prescribed five years was up and he returned to join the Order officially, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that his younger self had made enough of an impression for his name to be remembered and recognised. It had seemed presumptuous even to ask to speak with the commander directly when he'd gone to sign up, but his request had been granted and it had paid off. Kliff had expressed more surprise that the five years had passed so quickly than that Ky should have taken his words so seriously as to seek him out in person, then he'd grinned and declared aloud that he'd look forward to seeing whether Ky would live up to the determination he'd shown back then.

Ky had left with the pleasantly odd feeling he'd passed a test he hadn't known he was taking.

It was unlikely that Kliff would get many chances to see Ky in action on the battlefield first hand though. He'd always been the sort of commander who led from the front, and even in his advancing years his skill with that giant axe was legendary. However, as the years of the crusades dragged on into decades without Kliff showing the slightest sign of slowing down or passing any of his tasks on to underlings, certain influential figures in the UN were becoming increasingly uncomfortable about someone as old and important as Kliff risking himself on the front lines more often than necessary. The Holy Order might be his army in name, but as long as he wanted to keep his men fed and supplied, there was a limit to how much 'advice' from higher up he could afford to ignore. These days he spent increasing portions of his time in an office at headquarters, trapped behind a much detested pile of paperwork. Reliable rumour had it that just as soon as he found a successor he was satisfied with, he'd be retiring from the position for good.

There were three assorted senior officers and secretaries between Ky and the commander's office, all of whom waved him through quickly after hearing his name. Finally, he found himself knocking politely and nervously on the appropriate door.

"Come in," called a familiar, gruff voice. As soon as the door opened to bring commander and soldier into each other's view, the voice amended, "Kiske? Took your time."

"I'm sorry sir," said Ky automatically. It had been barely ten minutes since he'd received the message, but it didn't seem likely that Kliff wanted excuses.

The office was not elaborately furnished, being decorated only with a few tasteful eastern-styled ornaments, richly exotic against the contrast of so much classic European architecture. To the left of a neat set of shelves holding small collection of delicate Japanese teacups, two sturdy looking hooks had been hammered into the far wall. These were designed to hold the giant battle axe Sir Kliff wielded in battle, though the weapon itself had been propped up pointedly below them where it could be more easily accessed in a hurry. The Dragonslayer was not an ornamental piece, and Kliff would make sure the world knew it. The desk was indeed covered in papers divided into piles which Ky guessed would be for documents which were urgent and important, documents which could be lost for a few days without disaster, and documents which their owner was strenuously trying to ignore. The important pile was stacked high today, the few that were visible on the top all dated within the last forty-eight hours.

Kliff reached for one of those nearest to hand. "I've been hearing some interesting reports on your performance at Rio Mera."

It wasn't that far from what Ky had been expecting. "Sir, I realise my actions were in contradictions with our orders. However, in the circumstances…"

"At ease, soldier," Kliff growled before he could get any further. He sounded worn out and short tempered, it seemed unthinkable that he'd had even as much sleep in the last twenty four hours as the few fitful winks Ky could boast. Even being spared the scene of the battle could hardly have lightened the burden of this affair.

"I didn't have people looking for you for an hour so I could lecture you about procedure. Following orders put more than two divisions out of action yesterday. Your unit was the only one on the front line that didn't run for it and still came back with enough men to deserve that description. If this is where it gets me, I need men to ignore orders more often." While Ky was still reassembling his thoughts around this new information, the commander added, "But it sounds like you had some problems with those orders from the start, hm?"

After all that had transpired, the news that Ky's outburst during the briefing had reached Kliff's ears was no more than a momentary surprise. "Yes, sir."

"Well? Don't keep me in suspense. I want to hear what you thought these big flaws in your orders might have been."

Ky took a deep breath. "Sir, I believe it was an error to attempt to flank the gear force from both sides simultaneously. The firepower to defeat heavy class gears requires high level magic, which our men could not risk for fear of overshooting and hitting our own soldiers. In addition, in a battle against such opponents, maintaining our hold on the high ground offered very little advantage, as…"

"Alright, that's enough," said Kliff, cutting him off again. "I can see you know what you're talking about, and you've more than proven yourself on the battlefield, and that's good enough for me. I need a new captain and you'll do."

"S…sir?"

"It's called a field promotion, Kiske, I'm sure you've heard of them," Kliff answered impatiently. "Not even the regulations I'm saddled with forbid me the right to grant that in an emergency – and if that's not what this is, I don't want to know what ever will be."

"Me? But sir, I'm…" There were too many obvious objections for Ky to even decide on one to voice. Promotion in the Order was a straightforward business. If you weren't flagged as officer material the day you signed up, you might as well resign yourself to being addressed as 'private' forever. If you were, then you'd get officer status if and when a position opened up above, if and when half a dozen clerks were done reviewing the very brief performance records provided to them for yourself and whoever else was eligible. Up until that day it didn't matter how you behaved, no-one above had the time to care. Heroics in the right context were encouraged in a general sort of way, but nothing ever went beyond that. Even a civilian would know that promoting a teenager with barely a few months of military experience all the way to captain was absurd.

"Did you have someone better in mind?" asked Kliff, the exhaustion in his voice nearly overriding even the impatience. "The best thing I can say for Captain Stavell's idea of a plan is that he stayed to see his own insanity through, and he won't be coming back unless someone finds the pieces. I don't have so much as lieutenant in your division who'll be fit for active duty within two months. The only man to show any leadership in this mess was a recruit who stands up in briefings, questions orders and gives his own when he doesn't like the ones he's got, so I'm promoting him as high as I can get away with before he shows up any more of his superiors." He raised an eyebrow in Ky's direction. "Any objections?"

In short, Ky realised hotly, he was being given exactly what he had been asking for. "No, sir."

"Good!" Kliff barked, returning to his papers to stamp something in a final sort of way. "Just don't expect to be doing too much captaining any time soon. Your battalion will be grounded until we find you enough men to make putting that airship back in the sky worth the effort. May as well make the most of the chance to get used to your new office." He paused, looked up again at Ky in a significant sort of way. "That will be all,_Captain_ Kiske. You're dismissed."

Ky was starting to find that wandering around the complex in a daze was becoming a familiar sensation.

* * *

The issue of breaking the news to the men that the best replacement captain who could be found was a fifteen year old boy turned out to be a non-issue, reason being that news of Ky's performance in that fateful battle had got around. The Holy Order's high command were not in the habit of offering public excuses for unlikely appointments, but they didn't need to, the story spread with a life of its own. By the time it had completed its rounds, it had been retold and exaggerated to the point that one could have been forgiven for believing that the fact any sort of victory had been possible was thanks to the actions of one newly recruited soldier. A 'hero' to men in a war as long and desperate as this one was just about anyone they could latch on to, and popular opinion latched on to their new prodigy of a captain fast. Ky's first appearances in his new uniform drew cheers from men who would not have recognised him hours before. The stories which made the full round back to Ky's ears again grew so wild that he seriously considered making an official announcement just to set the record straight, but (in what would never be recorded as the first really good leadership decision he'd ever make) he thought better of it. It didn't seem like captainly behaviour.

The whole promotion affair had been too easy, if anything, Ky mused, watching from the upper balcony over the airship's main hold as a new shipment of supplies was unloaded and carried away. That, or their continuing inactive status had given him too much time to think about it over the last couple of days.

Either way, hearing some honest disagreement was actually more refreshing than he would ever have expected.

"So now I'm in an army made out of kids and lead by kids? Well, fuck."

Ky had not seen Sol coming up the stairs, but even if he hadn't recognised the voice he couldn't have mistaken the sentiment. He looked up in time to see the Order's least obedient recruit coming to lean on the balcony a few feet away from him.

In many ways, dealing with Sol was a part of his job which Ky would get worse at rather than better over the years that followed. The man grated on him so badly it could only have been a deliberate effort to rile him, so much so that they would eventually reach the point that any communication between them that didn't dissolve into some kind of argument would be a very rare thing. But now, Ky had yet to become accustomed enough to his newly granted authority to expect to be given respect, however grudging, and had not yet stopped expecting to have to answer for his success. "Certainly, I was surprised by the commander's decision. But if he believes I am the best man for the position, all I can do is trust his judgement and see that I don't disappoint him."

"Hah," Sol muttered, unmoved as usual. "'Least you coulda learnt from that mess was when not to go blindly trusting the guys upstairs."

"This was a command that came directly from the founder of the Order," Ky reminded him. Sol's unapologetic disrespect for that position was already starting to irritate him. "Even our leaders will occasionally make mistakes, but if we can't put our trust in Commander Undersn, then what good is the Order at all? Who else under God am I to put my faith in?"

Sol rolled his eyes. "Another religious nut. It gets better and better." Ignoring Ky's glare, he went on, "And to hear some of the stories going around, this lot already think you're the next Messiah."

Ky had heard some of those stories, enough to have no desire to hear any more that might be emerging and was starting to regret his decision not to publicly deny them.

"Much the same seems to be true of you," he countered. "The stories I've heard claim you were the only man from your unit to make it back alive, and yet reports say the enemy still lost troops faster from your quarter than any other location on the battlefield."

"Oh? That the story?" said Sol, sounding amused, though he showed no interest in setting the record straight, whatever the reality might have been.

"It seems strange you've never been promoted," said Ky, feeling bold again. "I've heard nothing but praise for your skills, and you seem to understand the mechanics of combat better than many men here do."

Sol coughed out a laugh. "Hell will freeze over before any of this lot dream of promoting me."

Ky experienced a momentary impulse to recommend Sol for promotion himself, just to be contrary. He had that authority, as the new captain, and they were in need of new officers, but he had to admit his motives for doing so seemed questionable, even to himself. As a first act after receiving his new rank, it did not seem especially wise.

"I have to admit, I have difficulty understanding why a man like yourself joined the Order in the first place. You have little enough respect for it."

"Good question. Why indeed." Sol frowned, and Ky guessed that Sol was in truth not certain himself what had made him agree. "The old man was pretty determined to get me to sign up. And if I'm going to be hunting Gears anyway, might as well do it somewhere the meals and transport are free."

This was war. An organisation like the Order hardly had the luxury to be picky about the attitudes of men who had the skills to fight it. Ky supposed that men like Sol would be one of those things he'd have to learn to deal with, which only went to show how little idea he had.

The moment of quiet reflection was broken by Sol looking over the balcony and saying, "So this is captaining for you? Standing around watching everyone else do the work?"

"It's hardly a task they need direction for," Ky pointed out. "Until we have enough men fit for battle to fill more than half the ship's capacity, I won't have much more than the most routine duties. I've had more time than I have anything to do with." Even training sessions were barely beginning to start up again, though Ky recognised those would work rather differently for officers than for ordinary soldiers. His body was starting to itch from the lack of exercise.

He gave Sol a long, thoughtful look, a new possibility occurring to him. "Can I interest you in a sparring match?"


	4. Epilogue

A/N: Since Chain of Command was originally started as the story of how Ky made it to Captain and this last part moves into different territory, it's arguably more of a sequel than an epilogue. However (as everyone from my beta reader onwards was quick to point out), it would have been rather evil of me to just leave it where it ended, and I did want to write this final scene. Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed - it's great to hear people have been getting so much out of this fic, and the responses really have been unusually rewarding. And while this fic is done, I have got plenty of other fic for this fandom in the works.

* * *

For a man with his reputation for violence, Sol did not take to Ky's request with much enthusiasm.

"Count me out." Sol glared darkly off in another direction. "Beating up kids isn't my idea of a good time."

Even if Sol was as superior in abilities as he believed, the tone of his dismissal made Ky prickle. "I don't have any intention of letting myself be beaten that easily. You may have more experience, but I'm sure I have more tricks of my own than you realise."

Sol seemed to find this funnier than Ky thought was fair. "Think you can take me on, kid?"

"It's not a matter of who wins or loses, is it? All I'm asking for is a training session," said Ky evenly. "Besides, I want to see it for myself – this power of yours I've heard so much about."

"How much are you expecting to see in a sparring match?" Sol snorted.

"I can make it an order if that's what it'll take," Ky suggested, enjoying the authority to make that offer more than he would have expected.

"Aren't you misusing this captain thing a bit?" said Sol irritably.

"I'm hardly going to make much of a captain if I don't know what my own men are capable of," Ky said reasonably, semi-consciously straightening his shoulders. "If one of them is reputed to be able to clear a battlefield single-handedly, wouldn't it be unprofessional of me not to take an interest in him?"

Sol rolled his eyes. "Do you listen to yourself?" But before Ky could ask him what he meant, he added, "Gonna be no gettin' outta this, huh?"

"I'm sure you can't claim a more pressing engagement," said Ky. "We can use the training arena on this side of Headquarters – no-one else should be there at this time of day."

He turned to lead the way, and after only a few paces was rewarded by the sound of Sol's heavier footsteps following along behind him.

The training arena was five minutes walk away through the old hallways of complex, and was indeed empty and deserted – even the equipment and mats that would be in use in a general training session had been stacked to the side or stored away.

"Here?" asked Sol, taking in the room with casual disinterest.

"You haven't seen the training arena before?"

"Nah. Dunno what the point would be." Sol shrugged, and appeared to come to the end of what little interest he'd had in looking around. "Let's get this over with already."

Like all the oldest parts of the complex it had been built out of stone, but unlike the others, the floor here was covered by a layer of loose sand to cushion falls that might otherwise lead to injuries. It was not an arena in the truest sense, but it did boast raised seating going some way back on one of the walls and a surrounding balcony high above. Demonstration matches were held here from time to time. None Sol had seen or taken part in though, apparently.

Ky reached the centre of the room, stopped a few paces ahead and drew his sword. He would only insult Sol by suggesting they use training weapons for this. "Ready?"

Sol hefted his own weapon, and reached up to crack his neck with a noise that just about echoed in the enclosed space. "Don't come crying to me if you get hurt, little boy." It was a fairly textbook taunt even if he meant it, and it did little to dampen the quick thrill of anticipation running through the young captain.

How best to approach this, Ky wondered. Fighting another human was a very different prospect to fighting a Gear. His best hope was that Sol would be far enough out of practice at this mode of combat that it could be turned it to his disadvantage.

Deciding it best to start simple until he'd had the chance to feel out his opponent, Ky opened with a simple wide sweep of his sword, which Sol blocked easily by raising his own weapon. The blades glanced off one another with a dull clang. Adjusting his grip, Ky brought his next strike down from above, forcing Sol to block up high, but at the last moment he turned the blow into a feint and pivoted to swipe down at his opponent's feet. But Sol moved faster than Ky had thought possible, swinging that giant blade back down again so that it swept Ky's sword aside on impact. Sol turned on the end of the movement and he launched a savage kick which hit Ky in the side and sent him sprawling.

It happened so fast Ky took a moment to get his wits back. He'd never expected to be a match for Sol in power or strength, but he'd counted on having at least some speed advantage. Yet Sol could clearly swing that weapon as though it had only a fraction of its weight.

"Geez, where are you aiming?" Sol grumbled, looking bored. "You aren't gonna win taking strips off my uniform."

"Haven't you ever fought a match for practice?" Ky countered, startled by the tone of his own voice. "The objective is not to injure your opponent!"

"How do you decide the winner?" Sol scoffed. "Who's pants hold out longest? Fight like you mean it, you're putting me to sleep."

The thought shot through Ky's head that the insolence of this man was beyond all humour. "Surely you have some concept of fighting to disable…!"

"Scared you're gonna hurt me, kid?" Sol let out a short laugh. "Fuck, this is gonna get old fast. Come at me with anything ya got, I'll take it."

"You may be that confident, but it isn't so simple for me," Ky argued back. "If I have to worry whether I could go too far I won't be able to concentrate."

"This is why I hate babysitting," Sol complained.

Ky drew himself back to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. "On guard."

A spark leapt from one of his fingers to the blade of his sword, drawing Sol's eye. Half the older man's mouth crept upwards in a smirk.

Ky raised his free hand and drew it down sharply to release a low powered variant of his lighting projectiles. Surprise flickered over Sol's face for just an instant before the bolt was countered in a small blast of flame not far from its target. But Ky had been expecting no less; stories he'd heard of the former bounty hunter had referred with awe to his command of fire magic – far more common a specialisation than Ky's own lightning, if no less powerful for it. Before the sparks of his attack had cleared he was already running in behind it, aiming another wide swing. Electricity crackled along his sword, and even as Sol blocked the blow it leapt from the blade in a bright arc and struck him on the arm. The sight of Sol flinching away was uncomfortably rewarding.

For that moment, the advantage was his, and Ky slashed out again hurriedly before the opportunity could be lost. However, Sol had his balance back before he'd more than begun the movement, and simply jumped backward out of the way.

"That all ya got?" he taunted.

"Not even close," Ky replied without even thinking. Quickly, he tried to summon another charge before the distance between them closed again. Sol moved faster, dodging in low and sweeping out a leg to knock his opponent's feet out from under him. Ky jumped to avoid it just in time, but while still in mid air he was forced to shield his face from a painful blast of heat. What sort of attack it had been he had no time to work out, it registered no more clearly to him than as tongues of flame and air so hot it might have come straight from the centre of a furnace, but at that range it knocked the breath out of him. Ky landed without any dignity at all, staggered and swung at what he could make of Sol through the smoke – pure reactionary defence when he could barely even see. It was so rushed that he may even have forgotten his prior conviction about not aiming to injure, but his weapon encountered nothing but empty air. Instinct just barely made him raise his sword again in time to block before Sol's weapon came flying at him out of the haze. The heavy blow nearly wrenched his sword right out of his hand, and before he had any chance to get his grip back, he'd taken a punch to the stomach. Sol's next blow landed on his wrist and knocked the sword from his grasp completely.

When Ky stopped seeing stars, he found himself sitting on the training room floor with a heavy sword pointed at his neck. Sol looked more bored than victorious.

It was a mistake to focus on Sol's weapon alone, Ky noted uselessly as the pain in his stomach faded. Although he swung it with ridiculous ease, he treated it like no more than the latest addition to an established arsenal of feet and fists. Sol was quite prepared to use any convenient appendage as a weapon.

"Che, finished already?"

Although not much practiced at it through his last couple of years of training, Ky was not normally a bad loser. But the tone of Sol's voice sounded too much like a challenge, and even if the weapon he was holding might be used a bit like a sword, it wasn't designed to damage with a simple forward thrust. The way it was being pointed at him was more symbolic of his loss than it was any real threat.

Ky reached up suddenly, grabbed Sol by the wrist just above the sword hilt, and dealt out an electric charge strong enough to be acutely felt even through the fabric of his gloves. While Sol swore at him and wrenched his arm away, Ky rolled out of the way, dived for his fallen sword and leapt back to his feet.

He didn't stop to think whether what he'd done was unsportsmanlike. There was only one attack in his arsenal with any hope of getting past Sol's defence, and it was one he'd invented only by accident a week previously. It would be a gamble, but he had nothing to lose by trying. Last time he'd done this he'd been charging into the midst of a real battle, and it had come to him naturally. This time he had to concentrate to summon enough power in the few seconds he'd bought himself to create those orbs of lightning again.

When Ky opened his eyes again after a moment's focus, it was working – the light surrounding him was bright enough that even he was nearly blinded by it. Surely even Sol couldn't shrug this off. He took his first step forward, meaning to gather some speed. But before he could take another, a hand snaked in through his guard and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and the last thing he knew was that Sol's head was coming towards his very quickly.

This time, when Ky came back to himself he was flat on his back on the floor, and his head was still throbbing. Sense memory replay of Sol's forehead crashing into his own danced through his head with a viciousness that was not at all stifled by the sort of short term memory loss that was supposed to come out of these incidents. The next thing he saw was Sol himself standing over him, grinding a foot into the loose edge of his coat, which had been smouldering slightly.

Ky realised with a grimace that he had no basis to complain. He'd been given the opportunity to retire gracefully, and he'd passed it up. His assessment of Sol as someone who'd use any part of his body as a weapon seemed ironically insufficient now. He might not have expected to be a match for Sol, but he hadn't expected to lose quite this badly either. It was a humbling experience.

He groaned, tried to lift his head and then decided against doing that again just yet.

"Properly finished this time?" said Sol. Ky might have laughed at himself if he'd been up to it.

"No wonder you have such a reputation if you fight like that," he said. It was a statement open to several interpretations, and Ky couldn't honestly claim he hadn't meant it to be.

"Not so hurt after all, huh?" muttered Sol, which Ky found to be nearly as ambiguous. "What's it take to shut you up?"

"I'm sure I don't want to find out," Ky replied, with feeling. It wasn't like him to feel the need to be this competitive, he'd had enough new experiences for one day.

"Then you can get up on your own. If you got a concussion, I'm not carrying you to the medics."

Still grimacing with every other movement, Ky managed to sit up, then under Sol's continuing scrutiny, he struggled his way to his feet. His head still throbbed with every movement he made, but his vision had cleared quickly and that much boded well. Within a few paces he had a wall to lean against, which was a much greater relief as they made their way out of the arena. If Sol wasn't going to give him any help, at least he didn't seem inclined to abandon him with a head injury either.

"It was a good match," Ky said at last, feeling slightly clearer.

"What else do ya do for fun?"

"I meant it," said Ky seriously. "It isn't all about victory. If I never fight anyone I can't defeat, I'll never improve. I'm sure there's a lot I could learn from you."

"Maybe I did give you a concussion," Sol said skeptically, guessing where Ky was going with this far too easily.

"I'll be quite alright," Ky replied, summoning a faint smile. "You aren't that hard headed."

"If I'd known you were gonna want a rematch, I'd'a hit you harder the first time."

"Surely the occasional match wouldn't be such a trial for you?"

Sol gave a noncommittal grunt. "How many times am I gonna have to beat you up before it gets old?"

"Well, the faster you can help me catch up with you, the fewer it will need to be."

"A kid like you?" Sol scoffed. "You're at least a hundred years behind."

As casual taunts went, that still seemed rather unimaginative to Ky. "In that case, you have a lot of challenges to look forward to."

Sol muttered something that sounded vulgar under his breath.

Despite losing so miserably, Ky found himself strangely encouraged by the outcome of the battle. After getting promoted as young as his age, it would be far too easy to become complacent about his own skills. The challenge of catching up to someone like Sol could be good for him. Surely by the time he could match Sol in battle, he'd have earned the other man's respect.


End file.
